Running Hot

my second divorce. Quit my job with the department at the same time. Figured I needed a change of scene.”
    “Sorry about the divorce,” she said quietly.
    “Yeah, well, it wasn’t the biggest surprise in the world.”
    “Were you deeply in love?”
    “Whatever I felt for Tracey died the day I found her in bed with my partner.”
    “Funny how finding out that someone you trusted has betrayed you can kill a relationship.”
    “Been there?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Ex-husband?”
    “No. We were never married.”
    Good grief, what was she doing? Even with the names changed to protect the guilty, any attempt to explain her complicated association with Martin Crocker would not only be difficult, it would be extremely dangerous. She had kept secrets most of her life. She was a pro. But something about being out here in the night with Luther was threatening to make her careless.
    “Does aura talent run in your family?” she asked.
    “Sporadically. My grandfather was a strong aura. He told me that my father was a high strat talent though, and my mother had a mid-range talent for color and design, of all things.”
    “Raw psychic power tends to be a strong genetic trait but the form the talent takes is often hard to predict. Your grandfather told you about your parents?”
    “My folks were killed in a car crash by a drunk driver when I was a baby. I never knew them. My grandfather raised me.”
    “Is your grandfather still alive?” she asked.
    “No. He died the year I graduated from high school and went into the army.”
    She told herself she should stop right there. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. “Is there anyone else in your family?”
    “Maybe some distant cousins somewhere.” He sounded disinterested. “If they’re out there, they never bothered to show up after my parents were killed.”
    “In other words, there’s no one?”
    “Got a couple of good friends over on Oahu. They own the restaurant where I work as a bartender. What about you?”
    “My mother died when I was thirteen. Some kind of rare infection.”
    “Tough,” he said.
    “Yes, it was.”
    “Your dad?”
    “I never knew him.” She kept her voice perfectly neutral. “When my mother decided to have a child, she went to a sperm bank clinic.”
    “Oh, shit,” he said softly.
    She almost smiled. In that single, pithy statement he had told her in the most eloquent terms that he understood.
    “Yes,” she said. “Oh, shit, indeed.”
    “Talk about having a psychic hole in your life.” He turned his head to look at her. “You’re a genealogist. Ever try to find your father?”
    “Of course. A lot of sperm bank kids go looking for their fathers. I eventually found the name of the facility that my mother used, the Burnside Clinic. It was established by a member of the Society. Dr. Burnside catered to clients who were members of the Arcane community. He guaranteed that all of his donors were high-level sensitives of one kind or another. He also promised absolute confidentiality to both donors and clients.”
    “Were you able to find your father’s file?” he asked.
    “No. The clinic burned to the ground a few years ago. All the records were destroyed. Arson was strongly suspected but no one was ever arrested.”
    “Probably one of the donors who didn’t want to be found.”
    “Do you think so? I did wonder about that possibility.”
    “There are others,” he said, sounding thoughtful now. “Maybe one of the mothers who didn’t want a donor to find his offspring. Or maybe one of the kids who couldn’t find his father and got really pissed off. It also could have been someone who didn’t approve of the services the clinic offered.”
    “In other words, the list of suspects would be a very long one.”
    “Sounds like it.”
    She was quiet for a moment. “I was never able to identify my father, but after I went to work in the Bureau of Genealogy I found some information about him that my mother had entered into the genealogical records when she registered me with the Society. Mostly a health and talent history.”
    “And?”
    She shrugged. “What can I tell you? My father was descended of sound genetic stock and he was a strong talent. But then, Dr. Burnside would have insisted on those qualities in all of his donors.”
    “Sure.”
    “I got my eyes from him,” she whispered after a while. “But that’s about it. He wasn’t even an aura talent. My mother listed him as a strat.”
    “Knowing